


"I Fucked Your Mom" is Another Way to Say "I Love You"

by hader_ade



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fix It Fic, M/M, May be Explicit in later chapters, Reddie, Slow Burn, They deserved better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hader_ade/pseuds/hader_ade
Summary: My interpretation and heart's desire as to how IT Chapter 2 should have begun and ended." Richie burst through the door leading to the theatre’s fire escape and lurched over the railing. There’s a throbbing in his head, persistent and overwhelming. He had never in his forty years felt as anxious and as terrified as he did right now, at this moment. He felt something, a pang in his heart like it was...breaking?“What the fuck?” he thought. He doesn’t remember forgetting Mike Hanlon or Derry or even his childhood spent in the Barrens. He doesn’t remember forgetting the Losers- “but,” he thinks to himself, “can you even remember forgetting something? Don’t the memories just fade with time? Yeah, but all of it?” It’s slowly coming back to him- the Quarry, playing Street Fighter in the lobby of the Capitol Theatre, that giant fucking statue of Paul Bunyan, and someone. The very thought of this someone makes his heart leap- from love or shame, he doesn’t know.Eddie. ”





	1. Remembering Is The Hardest Part

**Author's Note:**

> I am doing my best to remember and decipher the dialogue from shitty youtube clips that I can find. Pardon me if they aren't perfect and true to the movie.

1

Richie burst through the door leading to the theatre’s fire escape and lurched over the railing. There’s a throbbing in his head, persistent and overwhelming. He had never in his forty years felt as anxious and as terrified as he did right now, at this moment. He felt something, a pang in his heart like it was...breaking?

“What the fuck?” he thought. He doesn’t remember forgetting Mike Hanlon or Derry or even his childhood spent in the Barrens. He doesn’t remember forgetting the Losers- “but,” he thinks to himself, “can you even remember forgetting something? Don’t the memories just fade with time? Yeah, but all of it?” It’s slowly coming back to him- the Quarry, playing Street Fighter in the lobby of the Capitol Theatre, that giant fucking statue of Paul Bunyan, and someone. The very thought of this someone makes his heart leap- from love or shame, he doesn’t know.

_Eddie_.

2

“Hey Rich, your ten minutes are up.”

  
“What are you talking about?”

  
“The hammock. Ten minutes each was the rule.”

  
“I don’t see any sign?”

  
“Are you being this way right now? No- no- why would there be a sign if it was a _verbal agreement_?”

  
“I don’t remember-”

  
“I remember you _agreeing on the fucking rule_.”

Eddie clambered on top of Richie, nestling his way in between his gangly limbs- fighting for dominance in the cramped space. He knew they would both fit, but for fuck’s sake- it was his turn.

“I can see your vagina!” Richie grunted as Eddie’s feet pressed into his chest and stomach, almost too close to his groin. That familiar feeling of shame rose in his chest- fleeting, but still distinguishable. How long had he loved Eddie for? It wasn’t even really the case of how long had he loved him for, he knew: since the day he first clapped eyes on that anxious hypochondriac he had loved him, probably. There was something in his eyes that caught Richie first- a sort of confidence that was impressive despite his size and the aspirator that he always clutched so desperately in those moments of anxiety. He loved Eddie. He _shouldn’t_ love Eddie, he reminded himself.

“Ten minutes each!” Eddie scooted his way around Richie, trying desperately to push those gangly limbs off of his body and claim more space without overturning the entire hammock.

  
“ I fucked your mom!”

  
“No, you _didn’t_,” Eddie grabbed at the comic in Richie’s hands.

  
“Give that back dickface.”

  
“Fuck you! Your ass has been here for twenty-three _fucking_ minutes!”

They tousled as the conversation continued on around them, too focused on not getting kicked in the face. Eddie groaned as he finally settled into his rightful spot, his back in between Richie’s legs, his feet by Richie’s face. He felt almost engulfed by Richie’s presence; the smell of Richie’s socks was unpleasant, to say the least, but the feeling of Richie’s leg hairs against his arms were almost downy, soft in the way that bodily hair sometimes was. He should be disgusted, Richie was the least hygienic person he knew and although he didn’t know a lot of people, he surmised that Richie was probably the grossest person in the world. And yet, there was something about him that made Eddie smile even when he didn’t want to. Despite the raunchy jokes about his mother and sometimes about Eddie himself, he knew that Richie meant well, he always did. Eddie knocked his shoes off and brushed his right foot across Richie’s face, bothering him for the sake of bothering him- it was how they operated. One pushed while the other pulled, always grating on one another’s nerves because, secretly, it made them feel something. Something they didn’t feel for the other Losers- neither of them would admit to the other how they felt so comfortable and at ease when they were together, despite the bickering and name-calling. It was their own, twisted form of affection. Their way of saying, “you’re pretty alright, dude, I’m glad you’re my friend”. Even if it was only half of a confession, Eddie knew that deep inside him, he actually loved Richie. He would never, could never, articulate that. Not even while he was tucked into his own bed at night, warm under the hypoallergenic sheets that his mother bought him after a particularly bad scare of bed bugs that had cropped up in Derry the previous June. Even though he was alone with just his thoughts and a belly full of various nightly vitamins and pills, he couldn’t say that maybe what he felt for Richie was deeper somehow. He couldn’t put a name to that feeling either, just that the way he loved Richie was a different love from what he felt for Big Bill, or Bev, or even Stan. Eddie loved Richie in his own, special way. And that terrified him. Eddie’s foot snuck under the frame of Richie’s glasses, Richie grabbed him by the heel and pushed it off and away, rocking the hammock.

“I’ll do that, I’ll do anything to get the fuck out of Derry.”

3

Well, he _had _gotten out of Derry. He had gotten out and he had moved on. And he had _forgotten._ That thought made Richie's heart sink ever further if that were possible.

Richie’s manager burst through the door of the fire escape, just as Richie had only moments before. The intrusive feeling of memories flooding back made his head spin.

“What the fuck? You were fine like five seconds ago!" his manager exclaimed. “Who was that who called? Huh? Rich? Rich-talk to me. You're on in two minutes- you good? Cause you look not good.” Richie couldn’t even begin the articulate everything that had happened in the last sixty seconds so he just closed his mouth and sank, ever so slightly, into himself. "I'm fine." He had a show to do, he had to push it all down for the next two hours, tops. Then he would be out of this theatre, out of California, and on a flight back home.

_Home_, he thought, where the fuck is that?


	2. "Chompa Chompa" Late At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie Kaspbrak had been married to Myra for...too long. He was forty now, many lifetimes away from the sewers of Derry and his Losers- he had forgotten it all and his life trudged on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's POV- I'm working on the next chapter rn but am struggling with Richie and Eddie's travel to Maine. Give me time, I am but a little idiot. ILY

4 

Eddie Kaspbrak had been married to Myra for...too long. He was forty now, many lifetimes away from the sewers of Derry and his Losers- he had forgotten it all and his life trudged on. 

“Eddie? I keep telling you not to scare me like this. And you never listen to me-” Myra’s shrill voice rang through the car’s speakers, she had that tone of concerned hysteria that she took on when Eddie did something she didn’t like. Eddie’s eyebrows scrunched, his head throbbing with the onset of a migraine- he seemed to get those more often now. _ That’s the voice of my mother _, he thought.

“Alright, Myra,” Eddie lifted the pill bottle from his center console to his lips and took back a few lorazepam- being married is fucking hard, “please not now.”

“You shouldn't be out there. Eddie, it’s not safe to drive when the roads are slick like this!”

“Sweetheart,” he was trying to be patient with her, but his knuckles were turning white as he gripped at his steering wheel, “it stopped raining like three hours ago. Alright? Everything is going to be fine.” A yellow cabbie pulled up to his window and laid down on his horn, throwing gestures of dissatisfaction Eddie’s way. Eddie reached his arm out of his car, gesturing at the congestion around him, “Hey dickhead! Full-on traffic mean anything to you?” _ I fucking hate this city. _

“And what if you hydroplane?”

“I’m not going to hydroplane! It’s my job to assess risks so please trust me when I tell you that _ statistically speaking _ I am much more likely to get into an accident talking to you on the phone. Alright? I have to go, I will talk to you soon. Goodbye.” With a click he ended the call, the stress that had built up slowly released and the tension around his shoulders loosened.

The musical tone of his ringer replaced the moment of silence he had had. Slipping into his most professional tone and adding a smile that he hoped would translate in his voice, he answered, “Edward Kaspbrak speaking.”

“You didn’t say ‘okay, bye, I love you’ like you usually do.”

The smile dropped from his face and the frustration bubbled in his throat. He loved Myra once, years ago it seemed, but he had loved her. When he had asked her to marry him, though, it felt more like an obligation- he wanted to please her. She was a nice enough woman when they had met and she always cared for him, much like his mother, and he suspected that he owed it to her to propose. The nights that came after the marriage were lonely though, he loved Myra, but he never felt drawn to love her or to touch her. The concept of sex with his wife should have excited him, but that feeling wasn’t there- he was gripped with what he could only describe as guilt. Eddie didn’t know why he felt guilty, he had no reason to- he was her husband and there are certain things a husband is expected to do, he knew this. He _knows_ this, but instead he spends his nights reclined in his La-Z-Boy with a mug of chamomile tea, watching late night television and shitty comedy specials. But there was one particular comedian he seemed drawn to watch more often than the rest.

5 

“RICHIE TOZIER!” The announcer’s voice boomed from his television set and Eddie Kaspbrak scrambled for his remote. It was well past eleven by now and Myra was sure to be asleep. The last thing he wanted was to hear her thunderous footsteps coming down the stairs, berating him to come back to bed. These hours of the night were his and he wanted to enjoy them. A small smile crept onto his face as Richie strode onto the stage, shoulders hunched with an awkward wave to the audience. He was a gangly guy, all limbs, but he looked soft in the face with a pair of outdated glasses perched on his nose, hair curly and sticking up in every direction. _ He looks rough _, Eddie thought but he snuggled into his recliner and settled in to watch.

“Uh, hey everyone. I wanted to start tonight with this thing that happened to me the other night. My skin’s a-tingling just thinking about this spooky tale,” a smirk rose to Eddie’s face, this guy was such a dork and his impersonations were subpar at best, but Eddie liked him. There was something about his smile and the way that he laughed at his own jokes before he could get them out that made Eddie’s heartbeat a little faster. Richie seemed like a genuine man and Eddie liked that. _ There’s no way he writes his own jokes though. _ “Settle in.” Eddie obeyed, there was something in his eyes as he looked into the camera that made him think that Richie was talking to him and him only, _ I love this man _ . Eddie shook his head, _ yeah love him- great comedian, very funny guy _. 

“The other day I coughed, but it sounded like a sneeze. So, someone turned to me and said “bless you”, then I turned to them and I said,” Richie rolled his eyes at the camera as if he couldn’t believe what he had actually said. 

“You too,” Eddie murmured, finishing the joke for him. _ This isn’t even that funny, _ he thought, bringing his mug to his lips.

“Oil me up daddy, it’s dinnertime and I’m a little soup boy. Chompa chompa.” Eddie snorted into his tea, it splashed around the mug and wet his face and the front of his shirt. _ Fuck. _

Richie grinned into the crowd as his joke was well received. As much as Eddie would hate to admit it, it was funny. Funny only because he had been caught off guard, but for the next few days he would replay that bit before he went to bed and caught himself smiling at the man on the TV. 

“Oil me up daddy,” and Eddie would blush.

6 

“Listen to me, I can't, I'm going to be late to this-” Eddie’s ringtone sang through his words, interrupting his frustration. The screen in his car read: 

CALL WAITING 

DERRY, MAINE

_ Derry? _The name sounded familiar, hadn’t he lived there with his mother once? He couldn’t seem to ever remember his childhood, it was a fog of memories, but it had never really bothered him. Until now. “-meeting,” Eddie finished his sentence, but the anger in his voice was gone, he felt afraid.

“Say ‘I love you’ Eddie.” Myra’s voice was firm now, but it sounded hundreds of miles away and not there in the car with him.

“Okay, I love you mommy,” he was in a daze, the fog of his memories was now swirling inside of his head and 

“What?” 

He shook his head, Myra didn’t belong in the same space as the memories of his childhood. “Myra. Bye.” His thumb shook as it reached for the button that would answer the call, the phone still rang through the speakers like a taunt. “Hello? Who’s this?”

“It’s me, Mike,” the voice boomed around in his head, forcing its way into that dark part of his mind that had pushed out his formative years the moment he crossed the border of the little town he had grown up in, never to look back.

“Mike who?” 

_ Wait- isn’t that the homeschool kid’s bike? Yeah, that’s Mike’s. _ Mike.

A wave of realization washed over Eddie as memories flooded back to him. He didn’t even see the light switch from yellow to red and he didn’t see the cab barreling across the intersection until it had firmly planted itself into his SUV’s front bumper. The jolt of the crash brought him back to the present, but the summer of 1989 was coming back and Mike was still on the line calling for him, calling to remind him.

“Eddie! You okay?”

“Yeah I’m pretty good!” Edward Kaspbrak, however, was not actually good.


	3. At The Jade: Where Possibility Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laughter filled the table, replacing the disbelief that stung Richie to his core, and the look on Eddie’s face- that of relief- made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t apologize enough for this chapter taking so long- I was working on my other pieces and started two new ones that aren’t even up yet and I started making fanatics (what??)
> 
> As always, I love you all and your comments- please reach out to me, I love your support, and I love talking to you!!

7

The red neon light gleamed down on Eddie’s face: 

Chinese Restaurant

**Jade of the Orient**

8

_ Derry.  _ It had been a long time since he’d been back in this town- well over twenty years at this point. The drive into town hadn’t changed, he was still filled with that noxious anxiety that only worsened when he passed the town limits. He remembers bits and pieces the time he spent here, but the place in his mind where Derry lies is clothed in a deep fog. For instance, he remembers his weekends spent in the local hospital, courtesy of his mother and her antics; those same antics that burrowed deep into Eddie’s soul and never quite left. He remembers the sound of metal chains whirring around cogs- bikes! Fast bikes, bikes that flew like the wind- rounding the corner around the Derry Public Library and laughter. His heart lurched- Bill’s laughter. Stan’s. Richie’s.

Richie.

His best friend.

He had forgotten him.

Eddie wondered, if only for a moment, if Richie would be here. If Richie came home. If Richie remembered what he remembers. Those thoughts left as fast as they came.  _ Of course _ Richie would be here. Loud and as brash as he may be, he had a fierce sense of loyalty that had intimidated Eddie when they were children. Eddie wasn’t weak, but there was some truth in his mother’s words. He was more fragile. He couldn’t-  _ wouldn’t- _ stand up alone to the hardships that Derry and the people here threw his way. It wasn’t his way; but Richie? He would always be there, Eddie’s own shadow- never backing down and never wavering. Eddie remembers always, so secretly, looking up to Richie. Always with the biting wit, never the first to back down, always looking over Eddie’s shoulder so he wouldn’t have to. He could feel the tears prickling behind his eyes, white hot and stinging- his friends were so close.  _ His Losers.  _

9

By the time Richie had rolled into Derry, Maine in the most obnoxious convertible he could find in Bangor, it was well past sun-down. The streets around him and flying by him were a ghost town.  _ It looks like The fucking Fog.  _ Richie hadn’t actually ever watch The Fog, but he assumed that this is about the premise of the movie. 

“Hate this fuckin’ town,” he grumbled to himself, trying to remember why the hell he agreed to coming back to this hellhole. His head was a mess, swimming with snapshots of his life in Derry: arcade games and comics; the bright, neon sign of the Capitol Theatre; the way the sun gleamed off of the Quarry where he spent his boyhood summers; and the overwhelming sense of sadness and familiarity. Had it really been 27 years? Life here felt like it was just yesterday, with the memories coming back in waves- had time really gone by that quickly? 

Pulling into the parking lot of the Chinese place that Mike had texted him that morning, he let his head fall back and filled his lungs as much as he could until his chest burned and his rib cage wouldn’t expand anymore. The sting was grounded and on the exhale he pushed all of his worries away. A trick his old therapist taught him when things got too much, when his head wouldn’t stop spinning. He knew what he was feeling was normal, but he still felt irrational- these were his friends, his Losers- there was nothing to fear here. A car chirped somewhere behind him and he glanced into his rear view mirror to see a man stepping out of an inconspicuous sedan, shoulders hunched forward, and a worry in his step.  _ Eddie _ . The panic seized Richie again and he clutched at the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white- begging for the tremors in his hands to stop. 

Since Mike’s first call, less than 36 hours ago, Eddie was all he could think about. And it hurt. The childhood pining was back in full-force, rearing its head and filling his mind with fear and insecurity. Richie knew, well before the summer of 1989 that he loved Eddie, he knew the first day he met Eddie. That time was gone, though. Now he was a middle-aged man with back problems and an unhealthy relationship with the bottle who couldn’t get out of his damned car because the man that he has loved for his whole life was behind the ornate doors of the restaurant. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Richie leaned over his center console and grabbed his jacket- a bad habit that his therapist had pointed out a few years ago- a “security device” she called it. Fuck that, this was going to be a painful reunion and if he needed some semblance of protection then he would use it god damn it. He thrust his arms into the comforting leather and stepped out into the cool Derry night. Car locking behind him, he strode over to the embracing figures that blocked the entrance, his heart softened at the sight of fiery hair peeking over the shoulder of the man in front of him. 

“Wow. You two look amazing. What the fuck happened to me?” His fists were balled in the pockets of his jacket but left them as quickly as they had been put there to wrap his arms around his friends. “Richie,” he felt the need to introduce himself but the familiarity in Ben and Beverly’s faces let him know that that wasn’t necessary. He stepped back to embrace Bev and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt like he was at home. 

10

The brash sound of a gong reverberated through the intimate dining room that Mike had reserved for them startled Eddie and his gaze shifted from Mike and Bill to the entryway. 

“This meeting of the Losers’ Club has officially begun.”

That voice settled into the spaces of Eddie’s heart that he hadn’t realized were empty. It was the voice of a man he had been watching on YouTube for months, it was the voice of the boy he had once loved, and it was the voice of his best friend. It was uniquely and wholly Richie. And Eddie loved it. He didn’t know what to say- after 27 years of not saying anything to him, what should he say? He settles with, “Hey, look at these guys!” And mentally kicks his own ass for it for the next ten minutes. The uncomfortable Muzak fills the room and Richie gestures to the man situated in front of him- apparently in the years since the club had formed and disbanded, Ben had lost all of his childhood weight and stood tall and lean; but Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from Richie’s face. A wicked grin spread across Richie’s face as Ben looked back at him and Eddie felt a smile forming on his own face. He could see the mischievous smile of thirteen-year-old Richie living under the lines and aging of the man across the room and felt a sense of happiness. Things had changed and time had passed, but that was still his Richie- the Richie that he remembers. 

They all exchanged their pleasantries and greetings with hugs and smiles and lingering touches. Eddie had purposefully skirted past Richie, secretly saving him for last; so that by the time he got to him, he had the time to study the eyes behind the same, stupid glasses and pour as much love into the embrace as he could without suspicion. Once they were seated around the table, with a chair saved between himself and Richie and shots were dutifully served, Eddie’s defenses had set themselves up. He watched intently as Richie leaned over and set his lips around the shot glass and lifted his chin back, taking the burning liquid like a professional. The glass crashed onto his plate setting and the remnants of sake dribbled down Richie’s face- Eddie shouldn’t be mesmerized by the sight and yet he was fixated on the way Richie’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the shape of his lips.

“Wait. So Eddie you got married?” It was an innocent enough question, but the reminder that he had a wife waiting for him back in New York that he hadn’t even thought about burned. He was actively pining for the man seated next to him and that shame turned very quickly into frustration.

“Yeah. Why’s that so fucking funny, dickwad?”

“What to like a woman?” Eddie was taken aback. Richie’s assumption that he very well could have and did marry a man wasn’t lost on him. Eddie had spent the whole of his life actively repressing any thoughts or actions that would lead people to believe that he liked men; and here Richie was- with an unamused expression slapped on his usual joking face and Eddie was afraid. Afraid that Richie could somehow see into his mind and know that he loved him, could know that he married his wife out of obligation and not attraction, and it gripped him completely. 

“Fuck you, bro.”

The “fuck you” that fell from Richie’s mouth had no bite and Eddie felt reassured- this was just how they bantered and Richie’s comment about his wife was nothing more than him trying to get under his skin. Still, Eddie squirmed in his seat and silently thanked Bill for switching the spotlight off of himself and onto Richie.

“Alright, what about you Trashmouth? Are you married?” 

“There’s  _ no way _ Richie is married!”

Eddie had been married for almost eight years, albeit unhappily, but the thought of Richie being married turned his stomach to knots. 

“No, I got married!” Richie defended. The chatter that filled the room arguing the validity of Richie’s nuptials drowned the sound of Eddie’s heart shattering. He knew, intrinsically, that it wouldn’t matter if Richie were married or not because _he_ _was_ and Richie didn’t love Eddie in the way that he loved Richie. 

Even knowing that, he couldn’t stop from asking Richie when he got married- as if it would make a difference. 

“Did you not hear this? You didn’t know I got married?”

A small “no” escaped his mouth and Eddie moved to take another sip of sake because Lord knows he needs it. 

“Yeah, no, me and your mom are very very happy right now.” The guffaws and snorts around the table were a comfort. So he  _ was _ single- a small reassurance at best; even if it didn’t mean that Richie reciprocated, at least Eddie knew that there was a semblance of a chance. Not that he could take it.

The genuine laughter that poured out of Richie in waves was enough to make Eddie smile and he tucked into his drink once more to hide the satisfaction he felt. 

The drinks flowed and the mood lifted, the night stretched out and Eddie felt like he was home. How he could have ever forgotten these people and the love he felt for them was beyond him. It wasn’t until Richie brought up Ben and his new look that Eddie felt that pang again- Ben had gotten attractive in his age, anyone could see that; but Richie’s comment about Brazilian soccer players and Ben’s newfound “hotness” was enough to make Eddie question Richie. 

11

Seeing Eddie after all of these years shouldn’t have felt like a thousand butterflies in Richie’s stomach, but that giddy nervousness of young love was still alight in his chest. He wanted to hesitate but rashness was woven into the very fabric of his being. Richie’s arm shook with the vibrations of the gong and mallet, “This meeting of the Losers’ Club has officially begun!”

Richie Tozier never used his hands to take a shot, it was a bitch move- blowjob style was the way to go in his mind. He had been doing it for so long that he didn’t even consider the implications anymore- it was a funny moment if anything. And yet, the way Eddie’s eyes followed him wasn’t lost on him. He wondered what  _ that _ meant.

“Wait. So Eddie, you got married?” Richie wouldn’t admit even to himself that he hoped the answer was no.

“Yeah. Why’s that so fucking funny, dickwad?” There wasn't any hostility in his tone, but a sense of defensiveness. 

In hindsight, Richie should have planned out his response, but there was nothing and no one to stop him from asking: “What to like a woman?”. He couldn’t even mask the disappointment in his voice and the look in his eyes that begged Eddie to say no. To say no, I like men too. There could have been a chance for us back then. There could be a chance now if you help me remember. If you could show me how much you love me, there could be a chance for us now. It was wishful thinking, he knew that, but  _ god _ did he wish. 

“Fuck you, bro.”

The “fuck you” he gave in return Richie filled with humor, hoping it would diffuse the awkwardness and guilt that he felt. Hoping and failing. He could have kissed Bill for turning the conversation off of Eddie and onto him.

“Alright, what about you Trashmouth? Are you married?” 

“There’s  _ no way _ Richie is married!” Beverly didn’t mean anything by it, but Richie’s heart fell a little. No, he wasn’t married. He had never been married- hell, he hadn’t really even been in a relationship. In these 27 years of forgetting, there was always something that held him back from opening up to people, from really letting himself go in a relationship. He always wondered why, but now- with Eddie seated next to him- it made sense.

“No, I got married!” Everyone at the table knew this to be a lie, but a small “when?” from his left, shifted his attention to the doe-eyes of the boy he once fell in love with. Richie didn’t want to search Eddie’s, but there was something there- a ghost of an expression that left Richie wondering what was going through his mind. 

“Did you not hear this? You didn’t know I got married?”

The “no” that escaped Eddie turned Richie’s heart upside down- he seemed almost hurt. As if Richie getting married was surprising, not simply for the fact that he was with someone, but that was part of it undoubtedly. More for the idea that Richie might not be the same person that he was.

“Yeah, no, me and your mom are very very happy right now.” 

Laughter filled the table, replacing the disbelief that stung Richie to his core, and the look on Eddie’s face- that of relief- made it all worth it.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @hader-hoe on tumblr (URL change baby!)  
@hader_ade on insta (where my fan art is !!!)
> 
> Much love to those of you who read my work, let me know what you want next. Give my prompt, give me one-shots, I will write for you!!

**Author's Note:**

> I have never, in my twenty-one years of life, ever written fic. Despite being in just about every fandom that I could possibly be in growing up. But this? This fucking movie? This fucking pairing? They're my life now. So enjoy, or don't. I have a tumblr too: major-trash-hoe


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